MGS: Close Call
by Sottaceti
Summary: Close call! After a mission where Snake nearly dies, Otacon helps nurse him back to health. And after Snake gets better, he and Otacon get it on. ;D


Along with the raging waves and rocking of the sea vessel he was aboard, Snake hurled himself forward, arms protecting his head, gliding into a smooth roll across the roughly grated metal floor. Fragments of projected metal created new, gaping holes, shredding into the grating, boring deeply to its cold, metallic centres. Snake bulldozed himself backwards up against the hard wall that he had just slid behind - a barrier blocking the projectiles of the metal boring perpetraters. Finally, a few seconds to rest and assess his situation. Three armored MGs stood sturdily a whole level above him, almost able to overlook the "wall" and see Snake. Four armed marksmen were just around the bend. A step and a stretch to the left or right would reveal two of them, the foreman wielding a Striker shotgun, the rear marksmen wielding an AKs-47u. "Snake!" Otacon blurted on the codec. "The wires are going wild. Everyone aboard that ship is now aware of your position, and they're sending Kasatka to block you in."

Great, Snake thought, just what he needed. Reinforcements. So there he was; he had reached the end of the line. Or, just for this mission. After all, he isn't named "The Legendary Soldier of Fortune" for no reason. Snake pressed the sole of his boot up against the wet metal wall, the falling water curving around his heel and down to his toe as the rubber adhered to the barrier behind him. He focused all of his energy into his legs. He envisioned his sprint and then his jump, and then did so. He took off like a flash of pale blue with darker colours mixed in, literally a blur to the human eye. Immediately his adversaries began spraying rounds at him. Legs pumping like hydraulics, as a well oiled machine, he brought his right leg up far higher than he had done the last 20 or so steps and slid it over the rail, back leg pushing off, his whole body now falling downward. Then, when he dipped just below horizon level, he heaved all of his strength into his two legs, and that sent him barreling through the waters, an entire 7 second drop the liquid cutting violently at his dive-formation fingertips, cracking several ribs as well as his sternum.

Snake arched his back upwards, with much pain, to face and rise to the surface. He gasped at the air, attempting to fill his lungs full of oxygen to be carried by his blood that was now being pumped frantically. A few more seconds to rest and reassess the situation. He was now about 50 feet away from the large vessel, and still within shooting distance. The Kasatka were still en route, and they would likely be sending out a rescue boat to, ironically, kill Snake. All in all he was in fairly good shape, considering his situation. A few broken bones, a weakened penetration lodged in his right infraspinatus, a 9mm, and a grazing by that smae type of bullet on his right deltoid. He would not be easily seen in the waters without a searchlight, which the reinforcements would probably have. He could maybe pull off a shot or two, but he only had tranquilizer rounds, and the M9 had to be cocked after each shot, so it wasn't good for taking out multiples of enemies. He would have to somehow acquire a machinegun in order to fight, or he would have to run, or swim, in this case. And still, he would probably be caught and killed considering his short distance from the vessel.

Snake reached into his buttpack, ruffling around and searching for stitching supplies, but stopped after coming to a realization. No, he then thought, it would probably do more harm than good to try and patch himself up in these rocky waters, and he most likely wouldn't do a good job anyway considering he would be working one-handedly on his back. He instead pulled out a small pack of medi-gel to clot his wounds and stop the bleeding. He was further trapping the 9mm bullet lodged in him, but it was better than bleeding out and dying.

Snake jumped as he heard a small buzzing-type noise slowly and gradually getting louder. Here came the rescue boat. He pulled out his binoculars to see how many were on the boat - and to his luck, there were only two! He could easily tranquilize them both and hijack the boat. And what was even better, he had recently learned to speak Russian in order to better understand his foes on the field of battle. So, Snake pulled out his M9 Beretta tranquilizer, aimed, and steadied his hand. Closer, and closer came the boat. Closer, and closer came his enemies. Closer, and closer came those who could end him that night. Closer, and closer came his prey. The Snake's prey. The ones who carelessly stomped around, who stomp on the Snake, and who feel his bite, his venom coursing through their veins, as he devours their lives. And so it was with the tranquilzer. Chik-chak, thoof. One shot. Chik-chak, thoof. Two shots. The boat was now Snakes.

"Хант 3 команды! Это HQ! Вы читаете? (Strike team 3! This is HQ! Do you read?)" the comm link left on one of the soldiers buzzed. "Приходите! Вы слышите меня? (Come in! Do you read me?)"

"Это убивает команды 3. (This is strike team 3.)" Snake said into the radio.

"Каково ваше состояние? (What is your status?)" the radio spat back at Snake.

"Лазутчик мертв. (The infiltrator is dead.)"

"Очень хорошо. Доклад к мосту сразу. (Very good. Report back to the bridge immediately.)"

"Айе-айе. (Aye-aye.)"


End file.
